


This Is My Truth, Now Tell Me Yours

by pardonne_mon_francais



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 22:19:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13222392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pardonne_mon_francais/pseuds/pardonne_mon_francais
Summary: In which it takes Spock being dosed with a truth serum to figure out that he’s in love with his Captain.  Angst!





	This Is My Truth, Now Tell Me Yours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CarminaVulcana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarminaVulcana/gifts).



> This was supposed to be short but it ended up being like 10 pages because I am incapable of writing anything short, ever. I hope you like it!

When Spock comes to, he is looking up at three Moriendum from the chair that he is restrained against.  He recognizes the one standing closest to him as their leader, who had introduced himself to the landing party as Kras.  He was the one who had tried to kill Jim when the Moriendum attacked.  Spock had been distracted and fired at Kras rather than his own attackers.  Which is why Kras is currently clutching his right side where Spock’s phaser fire had grazed him, and Spock now found himself in some sort of a bunker with no idea how long he had been rendered unconscious.

Taking care not to move his head too much, Spock quickly assesses his surroundings.  He is alone in the room, aside from the Moriendum, but with the limited data available to him, he is unable to conclude that Jim—or the other crew members—have escaped.

One the Moriendum notices that Spock is awake, and he signals to Kras, who turns to him.

“Vulcan coward,” he snarls, leaning close to Spock’s face.

“You are mistaken,” Spock returns, meeting his gaze coolly.  “I am a half-Vulcan.”

This is what Jim loved to call his “Vulcan sass.”  If Jim were here, he probably would have snickered.  But Jim is not here, and it is illogical to wish he was.

Instead of Jim’s laughter, Spock gets a hard slap across the face from Kras.  The force of it snaps Spock’s head to the side sharply as pain blossoms across his cheek.  “Half-Vulcan, then,” he concedes.  “It does not matter to me.  As a Vulcan, you will be a difficult one to break.”

“That is true.  Vulcans have a statistically higher pain threshold than most species.”

Spock takes a more thorough stock of the room he is being held in.  The room itself is bare of any furniture except for the chair which he is strapped to, and a small metal table.  Resting on the table is a variety of tools that Spock can only infer are intended for torturing him.  Though for what, he is not yet certain.

“You’re telling me,” the Moriendum sneered.  “It would be much easier for me to get what I want out of that Captain of yours.”

If Spock stiffens at all, then it is imperceptible.

“But you don’t want me to do that, do you?  You don’t want me to hurt your Captain.”

“Certainly as a Starfleet officer, it is my prerogative to—”

“I don’t mean as a Starfleet officer, Kras snarls.  “I meant as a man. Or a Vulcan. Or whatever the hell you are.”

“I do not ascertain your meaning,” Spock tells him cooly.

Kras leans back, regarding him thoughtfully.  “Perhaps I am being too subtle.  I had heard that Vulcans were thick-headed creatures”—here, another hard slap which sent Spock’s ears ringing—“but I had hoped you would be more cooperative.  It seems, then, that I will be forced to use a more… _creative_ method.”  

One of the other Moriendum moves then, as if he had been waiting for a cue, and lifts something from the table that Spock had noticed earlier.  Out of the corner of his eye, Spock watches the Moriendum hold up a syringe, which sends a cold shock of fear down his spine.  As the first-ever successful Vulcan-human hybrid, Spock had been subjected to countless tests as a child, resulting in an—albeit illogical—fear of needles.  

But the Moriendum do not know this, so Spock only raises an eyebrow at the syringe.  “Sodium pentothal, I presume?  Most commonly referred to as ‘truth serum.’”

Sodium pentothal is only effective when a someone is lying, and it is unreliable at best when someone is withholding information.  Of course, Spock still is not certain what it is that he’s withholding.

The other Moriendum reaches around him and efficiently jabs the needle into Spock’s veins.  “No, not a truth serum,” Kras says, and Spock does not believe him.  “Simply a... relaxant.”

A relaxant?  Spock’s ears are still ringing from the two slaps, and he decides that he does not like the sound of this.  

Kras comes closer to him.   “Now.  All you have to do is tell me where the dilithium crystals are being delivered to and when.”

Dilithium crystals.  Of course.  Spock ought to have guessed.  But the Moriendum were going about this all wrong.

“Your method is most ineffective.  Studies have shown that the most reliable methods of interrogation discover information incrementally,” Spock informs him.  “In order to be effective, the interrogator should start with simple inquiries in order to acclimatize the subject to answering their questions.”

Kras’s jaw twitches.  “Alright, then,” he says.  “Why don’t you tell me about your captain, Mr Spock.”

Spock does not speak because all of his instincts are warning him that something is wrong.  Whatever the Moriendum have given him, it’s a suspiciously fast-acting chemical.  Spock is beginning to have trouble thinking ahead.  Or behind.  Or at all.

Distantly, he notices that the third Moriendum has left the room.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr Spock,” Kras continues.  “You and your Captain.  They say you two are very good friends, but that’s not all you are, is it?”

“I… do not grasp your meaning,” Spock says.

Spock knows that he is attracted to Jim.  A great many people are.  Most people are, in fact.  He is charming, and intelligent, and talented, and his eyes are very… aesthetically pleasing.  Ever since Spock has met Jim, he is been strongly attracted to him, but that does not mean anything.  Jim is his superior officer, and either way it does not matter because Jim does not feel the same way about him.  He had made that perfectly clear on more than one occasion; whatever Kras is implying, Spock concludes, he must be mistaken.

“I think you know exactly what I mean.  Everyone in the galaxy knows about the infamous Captain Kirk and his first officer who follows him everywhere like a lovesick dog.  But he _lets_ you follow him, doesn’t he?”

The metaphor takes a second longer than it should have for Spock to unravel.  “I believe you have misinterpreted us,” he says slowly, each word a weight on his tongue.  The ringing in his ears is getting louder, and he struggles to stem the rising paranoia that the chemical seems to have induced.

“No, I really don’t think I have.”  Kras leans in closer until he is only inches away from Spock’s face.  “I’ll ask you about the shipping details again, and this time I hope you answer me.  For the sake of your precious James.”

Spock’s ears are ringing, and without thinking he says, “No.”

Kras looks taken aback.  “No?”

“No.  James.  That is—not his name.”   _Jim.  His name is Jim._

“It isn’t?”  Kras raises an eyebrow.  “Perhaps we have the wrong man, then.  Could you identify him from a holo?”

The ringing in his ears now sounds like a scream.  Jim’s scream.

Under the effects of the drug, Spock does not know what his face is doing or what he even looks like.  “Have you hurt him?” Spock asks, and his voice sounds as though it is coming from underwater.

“He was beaten up a little during transfer, but nothing too serious,” Kras says.  He produces the promised holo, and Spock catches a glimpse of golden hair and eyes that burn with blue fire.  He does not look badly hurt, only angry.  The relief is almost as overwhelming as the panic.  “I haven’t hurt him much yet, anyway.  And you can keep it that way if you just tell me where the dilithium crystals are being delivered.”

Spock considers that for a second.  “It seems more likely that I simply kill you and free Jim myself.”

“I—What?” Kras looks baffled.

As if from a distance, Spock can feel his lip curl back from his teeth in a near-snarl.  “You should not have dared to even _look_ at my Captain.”

Kras takes a step back.

“You say you have heard of us?  Of the friendship that we share?” Spock continues.  “Then you must be familiar with Khan.  And you must be familiar with what I did to him when he hurt my Jim.”

Kras stares at him.  “This is ridiculous!  You’re restrained, drugged, unarmed, and have no idea where we are keeping your lover—”

“Captain.”

“—your _whatever_.  How can you possibly expect to win this?”

Spock isn’t really sure, himself.  His ears are still ringing, and the drug is beginning to make him feel numb from the waist down.  He is no longer confident that his legs will be able to support him, but that doesn’t matter, none of it does.  All that matters to him is Jim.  Maybe, if Jim is safe, then the screaming in his head will stop.

It is with a burst of adrenaline and Vulcan strength that Spock is able to snap the bands which held his hands in place.  He lunges forward, and by some miracle, his legs do hold, long enough for him to wrap both hands around Kras’s neck and _squeeze_.  The nerve pinch is too good for him; Spock takes great pleasure in watching the life drain from Kras’s eyes even as his own vision begins to double and blur.

Distantly, Spock registers the second Moriendum attempting to pull him off, but his scrabbling fingers are no more debilitating than a fly’s.  Spock does nerve pinch him when he’s done, but only because he needs to find Jim, and _now_.

He stumbles only twice as he makes his way to the door, but Spock knows that he isn’t going to last long like this.  The whining in his ears is only getting louder, and his sudden movements have caused the room to spin dangerously.  He remembers suddenly that it would be prudent to arm himself before wandering around a Moriendum bunker, so he doubles back and retrieves a phaser from Kras’s unconscious form.  He almost takes the Moriendum communicator, too, before it occurs to him to wonder why he would do such a thing.  Spock is also dismayed to find that his hands are shaking and realises it is unlikely that he will even be able to fire the phaser.

Spock staggers through the base, clutching his phaser for dear life, taking an illogical comfort in the smooth metal beneath his fingers.  He encounters no other Moriendum, and all his drug-addled brain can think is that they all must be torturing Jim, somewhere.  He finds a flight of stairs, which prove to be a challenge, and seem to go on forever, but he manages to make it to the top.

Finally, Spock stumbles his way into a wall and is relieved to find that the wall in question contains a door.  It takes a fair bit of scrabbling on his part, but at last, he manages to open it, once he thinks to tuck the phaser under one arm.  He is very proud of himself until he realises that he’s proud of himself from opening a door.  Spock slides through and doesn’t even bother trying to close the door behind him.

The first thing Spock notices is that its _cold_ .  For a second, he is confused—why is it so cold in the Moriendum base?  Has he wandered into a very large refrigerator?  Do Moriendum even _have_ refrigerators?  After a moment, Spock is still unable to discern whether or not Moriendum have refrigerators (for that, he will need more empirical data), but either way, it does not matter because Spock is outside.  Spock cannot be outside, because Jim is inside.  He needs to get to Jim.

But before he can turn and stumble back through the door, Spock feels the familiar pull of his molecules being rearranged.  “ _No_!” he roars, scrabbling frantically at his rapidly-disappearing arms as if he could somehow keep them from vanishing before his eyes.

It is not long before Spock himself vanishes entirely from the planet’s surface, and he suddenly finds himself standing on the Enterprise’s transporter pad.  Well, not standing for long; a combination of the disorientation brought by transportation, the drug, and his diminishing adrenaline brings Spock to his knees almost instantly.

“Mister Spock!” Mr Scott exclaims, rushing to help him up.  “Thank heavens!  You really had us all worried for a minute or two, there.  We couldn’t get a lock on you, not until you came above ground—”

“I must go back,” Spock interrupts him, speaking loudly to compensate for the hoarseness in his voice.  “You must send me back—”

“Send you _back_?” Mr Scott’s eyes widen as he pulls away.  “Now see here, we’ve only just gotten you back on board the Enterprise—”

“ _Jim is still down there!_  Please, Mr Scott, I must go back for him—”

“Jim?  You mean the Captain?” Mr Scott shakes his head.  “I don’t know what you’re on about, Mr Spock, but the Captain is safely on board the Enterprise, and he has been since he first beamed up after you were taken. He’s in his room right now.  He’s been worried sick about you, though.”

It takes a moment for Spock to process.  The Moriendum had lied to him.  

Unless they hadn’t.  There was still that holo to account for.  Jim was in his room, according to Mr Scott, but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t a Moriendum there with him.  Jim could still be in danger.

It doesn’t occur to Spock until much later that this thought was illogical, not to mention hysterical.  It was nearly impossible for a Klingon to get onboard unnoticed, and the chances of one getting anywhere near Jim were so small that they were almost negligible.  

But logic is the farthest thing from Spock’s mind as he shoves Mr Scott away, probably with more force than is necessary.  Mr Scott shouts after him as he half-staggers, half-sprints to Jim’s quarters, which fortunately are not far from the transporter room.  

At last, Spock arrives in front of Jim’s door.  He’s managed to lose his phaser and he can barely even stay upright and he can barely even think, except for _Jim, Jim, Jim_.  He can hear someone inside, and he is sure that it is a Moriendum, that Jim is tied up inside and a Moriendum is about to shoot him with a phaser that will almost definitely not be set to stun and—

But the door whisks open and instead of getting shot, Spock sees a blur of unruly blond hair and eyes bluer than the Vulcan sky just before the sunset and he hears, “Oh, God, _Spock_.”  And it's Jim.  Jim, who is alive and safe and well, who immediately grabs him and lifts him up, who starts demanding if he’s alright.  Spock will reassure him the moment he stops staring at Jim’s beautifully glorious, unmarred face.

It was all a lie and Jim is holding him and he smells like sandalwood, the way he always does, and Spock grabs him in a tight clinging hug and buries his head against Jim’s perfect neck.

“You are uninjured,” Spock exhales, and it is possible that he is nuzzling Jim’s neck.  In fact, that is most certainly what he is doing. He wants to curl around Jim and keep him safe and happy for the rest of his life and never let anyone else touch him ever again.

“ _I’m_ uninjured?  Spock, you’re the one who was taken prisoner by the Moriendum.  Are _you_ injured?”  Jim tries to pull away, presumably to check Spock for any injuries, but Spock won’t let him, so Jim somehow ends up sitting on the bed with him.  “I should call Bones—”

“ _No_ ," Spock says, and pulls away so he can see Jim’s face again. He tries to touch it, to feel it, to make sure there’s not some sort of makeup, but he ends up just sort of fondling Jim’s face. And Jim just lets him.  And Jim looks scared, but Jim should not look scared, he shouldn’t, so Spock grabs Jim by the chin and forces him to look into his eyes. “I swear I will keep you safe.  I will not let anyone ever hurt you, ever.  I promise you that, Jim.”

“That’s... nice,” Jim says, and he looks at Spock intently.  “Spock, do you know what it was that they gave you?”  And Jim, he’s so smart, of course he realised that Spock was drugged, he’s so brilliant, his Jim.

“Your eyes are blue,” Spock informs him.

“What?”

“Your eyes.  They are a most pleasing shade of blue.  Though it is illogical, I often imagine them as pools, or perhaps the ocean.  Is that not what the poets say, Jim?  I could drown in your eyes.”

“ _Spock_ ,” Jim says firmly.  “I need you to focus.  Can you tell me what happened?”

“ _Jim_ ,” Spock says, copying his tone.  He was going to say more, but somehow, without noticing it, his hands have drifted from Jim’s face to the back of his head and _oh_ , his hair.  It feels so nice to have his fingers in Jim’s hair.  Spock hums to himself and he winds his fingers through Jim’s hair, marvelling at the contrast between Jim’s gold and his own pale green.

“Okay, I’m going to call Bones,” Jim says suddenly, and he sounds a little bit shaky.

“Do not leave,” Spock says desperately.  He’s too weak and disoriented to do anything to actually stop Jim, which causes panic to climb into his throat once again.  Jim ignores him and moves away and he’s going away, and Spock lunges forward, tries to catch his arm or something, anything, “No, Jim, no, they could be waiting for you, _do not leave_!”

“I just need to call Bones and then I’ll be right back,” he tries to say soothingly, but he doesn’t understand.  Spock tries to stand up and follow him, but he only makes it to the edge of the bed before he falls, but then Jim is there again, and he is holding him again, saying, “Spock, come on, it’s okay, I swear it’s okay.”

“It is not, as you say, ‘okay.’  It is not safe,” Spock says, desperate for Jim to understand. “I need to keep you safe.  I need you.   _T'hy'la_.”

“Spock, the more you talk like that, the more scared I am,” Jim says.

Jim looks scared.  Spock hates it that Jim looks scared.  He hates that it is his fault.

“Don’t leave me,” Spock repeats.

“I’m not going to leave you,” Jim says, and moves slightly away, just enough to reach for his communicator.  “I’m going to sit right here.  I’m going to call Bones.  Okay?”

“That is not what I want,” Spock says.

Jim looks at him.  “What do you want, Spock?”

“I want…” Spock wants a lot of things.  To begin with; “Come here.”  Then, for clarification, “Closer.”

Jim just looks at him for a long while.  Spock doesn’t know what he looks like, though he can feel his eyelids beginning to droop.  He doesn’t know what Jim is thinking, and he doesn’t like it.  

Finally, Jim looks away.  “Just let me call Bones, Spock.  Then I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Jim,” Spock says, and the word is almost a whine.  He is fading fast, and he knows that he won’t be able to stay awake much longer.  But he can’t fall asleep, not without telling Jim that—

“Go to sleep, Spock,” he hears Jim say, as though from underwater.  And then, so quietly that he almost does not hear him, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

It is not enough, it is not nearly enough, but it is better than nothing.  Spock begins to drift off, lulled by the sound of Jim’s hushed voice on the comm.  Just before he falls asleep, he feels the mattress dip beneath him, and he feels Jim’s strong arms wrap around him.  Finally, the ringing in his ears is silenced, and Spock falls into a peaceful sleep in Jim’s arms.

 

 

 

 

Spock wakes up in Jim’s bed the next day, disoriented but otherwise fine.  Spock detangles himself from Jim’s arms and slinks out of the room without even looking back at Jim’s sleeping figure.  Spock will talk with him later, when he is not—well.

Spock is not _panicking_.  To panic would be illogical.  Why should he panic, when all that has changed is that he is aware of his love for Jim?  For he knows now that he has been in love with Jim for a long, long time.  Nothing has changed, not really.

And yet.

Spock is not panicking, but he is unnerved.  He manages to behave normally on the bridge in the following weeks, which has the effect of making him realize how foolish he has been for not acknowledging it until now.  Had he not been touching Jim unnecessarily, and encouraging Jim’s own frequent little touches?  Had he not spent hours playing chess with Jim in his quarters, greedy for his time, for his attention?

Uhura gives him a knowing look, once, when it takes him a second too long to respond to one of Jim’s requests, but she does not say anything.  Spock wonders how transparent he is, and how many people know.

He wonders if Jim knows.

He thinks about telling Jim himself, but the idea is dismissed quickly.  Spock has been attracted to Jim for a long time, but he never acted on it because it was a bad idea.  It is still a bad idea.  Jim deserves someone who is as wonderfully, unashamedly human as he is.  Someone who can match his wit and his brilliance and his passion.  Spock loves Jim, more than he has ever loved anyone before, but he knows that Jim does not feel the same way.  Jim, for all that he appreciates their friendship, thinks that Spock is cold and distant, and he teases him for it often.  Spock does not mind his teasing, but he knows better than to think that Jim could ever feel the same way about him.

And so nothing changes, except for the fact that Spock’s entire world has been shaken to its very core.

That, and the nightmares.

Vulcans do not dream.  Half-Vulcans, as it turns out, do.  

Spock has nightmares about the Moriendum and that picture of Jim, which he still does not know how they got.  He dreams about what could have happened if Kras had been more bite than bark.  He dreams about making his way back to the Enterprise to find Jim already dead, and he dreams of walking in to see Jim held at phaser-point and looking in his eyes for just one second before they shoot him in the head and Spock has to watch him bleed out.  Sometimes Spock dreams of walking in and to see Jim bruised and broken on the floor before Spock himself is shot and he has to watch himself die in Jim’s eyes and hear him screaming—the screaming is a constant.  Every night, his nightmares echo with the sounds of Jim’s screams.

Every night when Spock wakes, he leaves the bed and sits with his back to the door which connects his and Jim’s quarters. He leans his head against the door and closes his eyes, allowing the sound of Jim’s breathing on the other side to lull him into a meditative state.

On nights when the dreams are especially bad, Spock imagines—though it is illogical—that Jim is with him, holding him the way that he did that night.

He imagines that Jim loves him, too.

**Author's Note:**

> There you go-- my first time with angst! But worry not, Jim does love Spock back, they're both just emotionally stunted idiots :) maybe one day I'll write a happy ending for this, but for now, here's your sad Spock!
> 
> Also, if you enjoyed this story, please consider buying me a cup of coffee!  
> https://ko-fi.com/pardonnemonfrancais


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